to love a dragon
by elfira
Summary: I'm not good in writing a summury, so do you plzzzzzz just read the story and review it?? thx guys!! ~FINISHED~
1. to love a dragon

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of this story  
  
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To love a dragon ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
It was early in the morning when Hermione Granger awoke. The air was still in the dormitory. There was no sound except for the quiet, rhythmic breathing of the other girls, still sleeping. The sun had not risen yet, and there was a definite chill in the air that sent shivers through her. It was always like this at the beginning of the school year. She pulled the blankets up under her chin. For some reason, she was not tired at all even though she had been up very late the night before helping Ron and Harry with their divination homework. Actually, she hadn't really helped them at all. She had spent the majority of the evening researching something that, even now, she was too embarrassed to admit she was actually interested in: love potions. Ron and Harry had been too busy discussing the new Quiddich strategy that England's team had come up with to even notice her reading from the tiny little book. It had a red cover and was simply entitled Love: Make Your Dreams Come True. She wasn't quite sure what had driven her to check it out of the library. It hadn't been very much helping, either. Most of the potions lasted only for a short duration and many had incantations, which needed to be performed in close proximity to the "object of desire." Hermione sighed and stared up at the ceiling. She was thinking about him again, about every little detail she could remember, such as the way that he moved when he walked. He was so confident, so poised. His body was lean and muscular. She loved the way he brushed his blond hair out of his eyes whenever it tumbled into them. His eyes, she loved them too, and she often wondered what lay beyond those bluish-grey spheres. His face was angular, his skin pale, his lips were a blushing shade of rose. Whenever he walked into a room, her breath would catch in her throat. He dazzled her. But he did not know that she existed; at least, not in the sense she hoped he would. To him, she was another filthy-she hated to even think the word. Ordinarily, she could shake off an insult, ignore it. But not when he spoke to her. His words cut at her heart. She could hear his voice now, his beautiful mellifluous voice: "Filthy mudblood." Hermione slammed her fist down on the bed, using her other hand to roughly brush away the tears that were slowly rolling down the sides of her face. She felt stupid, pining away for him like this. What was wrong with her, anyway? There were plenty of boys in Gryffindor, or even Ravenclaw for that matter. Why on Earth bother with Slytherin? Slytherin turned out dark wizards, everyone knew that. But she was reminded of something that she had learned back in muggle schools: good girls always go for the bad boys. And Draco was as bad as they come.  
  
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Draco Malfoy sat alone in a corner of the Slytherin common room, curled up in one of the armchairs. No one else was up and he was glad of it. He needed time to think, time to figure out what was going on in his head. The room was dark except for the fire burning very low in the fireplace. It was not really producing any kind of warmth, but Draco didn't care. It was better than being home. His father had been pressuring him about becoming a Death Eater again. Draco wanted to make his father proud, but he wasn't sure if pledging himself to the Dark Lord was exactly the best way to go about this. He knew that if he refused, he would bring shame to his family. The absolute last thing he needed right now was to have Lucius mad at him. But he wasn't even sure if he SHOULD follow Voldemort anymore. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his silvery-blond hair. No one understood. Crabbe and Goyle couldn't begin to. Their fathers were loyal to Voldemort, so they were as well. They didn't question it. Draco wasn't even sure if they possessed the mental ability to think for themselves. He stared at the low burning flames in the stone fireplace, watching them dance slowly around the glowing umbers of wood. He closed his eyes, envisioning the flames in his mind. What seemed like only moments later, he was being poked in the side by something. He opened his eyes and found himself staring up into Crabbe's face. "What are you doing down here, Draco?" Crabbe asked, confused as always. "I, uh, I woke up early and didn't want to wake anyone." Draco's voice sounded distant. Crabbe didn't seem to notice. "Oh, well, good. Are you coming to breakfast with us?" Crabbe never missed a meal. "Sure. You go on ahead. I'll catch up to you in a bit." Crabbe and several other Slytherin sixth years traversed the room and crawled out of the wall into the hallway. Draco turned his attention back to the fireplace. The flames were bigger now, enveloping the charred pieces of wood. Still, he could feel no heat radiating from it. It was much the same way with his father. Lucius Malfoy was a strict, cold man who showed no love toward his son. At least, not traditional love. Lucius was convinced that asking Draco to join him as a Death Eater was the greatest sign of affection he could show. Draco stood up and walked slowly up the stairs to his dormitory. He liked things better when he was the only one around. He was used to being alone.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
After breakfast, Harry and Ron were heading toward Snape's classroom with Hermione in tow. "I'm just so excited to be going to potions I can't even begin to tell you," remarked Ron sarcastically. He was in good spirits today. "I agree," joked Harry. "It is definitely the high point of my day. Especially the fact that Slytherin will be there." "You know what, Harry? Potions wouldn't be at all bad if we weren't with Slytherin. Well, except for the fact that Snape would still be there." Ron grinned. He hated Snape, but probably not as much as Neville did. "What do you think, Hermione?" Ron waited for an answer. "Hermione?" He turned around and caught her daydreaming. "What? Oh, sorry." Hermione blushed slightly. "Did you ask me something?" "I was just saying to Harry that potions would be a much better class if we didn't have it with Slytherin, don't you think so?" Hermione felt her face redden even more. The only reason that she tolerated potions was because it was her chance to see Draco. But she didn't want to say that in front of Ron or Harry. "Much, much better," she mumbled. She had a far-off look in her eyes. "Hermione, are you okay?" asked Harry, a puzzled expression on his face. Hermione could get lost in thought, but once spoken to, she usually snapped right out of it. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm just tired." They neared the classroom door. "Ladies first," Ron said grandly, making a sweeping motion with his arm. "I guess that would mean you then, Weasley," came a voice from behind them. Hermione felt a tingle shoot up her spine at the sound of it. She glanced behind her. Draco was standing with Crabbe and Goyle, his arms folded in front of him. He had a smug look on his face. Crabbe and Goyle were laughing. "You know what, Malfoy?" Ron started, but Hermione intervened. "Ron, come on." She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room before he could get into trouble. Snape would love nothing more than to catch Ron in a fight with Draco and take fifty points from Gryffindor. Harry followed after them. Crabbe and Goyle hi-fived each other, still laughing at Draco's comment to Ron. "Saved by a girl! If you can call that a girl!" Goyle managed between laughs. "God, you're funny Dra-" But before he could finish his sentence, Draco had pushed past the two of them and walked into the potions classroom. Why did I say that? he thought. He could have hit himself. With his head hung, he crossed the room and took his seat. Snape began talking about types of potions in the front of the classroom. Draco was too tired to listen. The only thing that he could think about were his father's words, "You will make me proud as a Death Eater, Draco." The situation seemed impossible. There was absolutely no way he could refuse his father; Lord Voldemort would be infuriated. He could always- "Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked for the third time in a row, this time nearly shouting it. The other Slytherins were stifling laughs; the Gryffindors knew better. They simply watched, amused. "Mr. Malfoy, if you are going to sleep in class, do it in Defense Against the Dark Arts and not in my classroom." Draco looked rather embarrassed. "I'm sorry, sir," he mumbled. "Now then!" Snape rubbed his hands together as he spoke. "Partner up and you may begin. Mr. Malfoy, I'd like you to work with Mr. Weasley." Snape absolutely loved to make Ron look stupid during potions, and it looked as though today was going to be no different. Realizing that Draco had not heard one word that Snape just said, Ron picked up his cauldron and walked over to Draco's table. When Snape wasn't looking, Harry and Hermione followed. At least they could help keep the peace. Draco didn't even seem to notice when they all sat down at the table. Harry and Hermione got to work right away. Harry started to add the ingredients that needed no preparation, such as the beetle's eyes. Hermione took on the laborious task of dicing the fluxweed. It had to be perfectly cut for this potion to be potent. Every once in a while, she would glance over at Draco. She had never seen him like this. He was lost in thought, much like she had been earlier, but she sensed that whatever he was thinking about wasn't very pleasant. "Are you going to help, Draco?" Ron asked impatiently, looking up from his fluxweed. It didn't look as even as Hermione's. Draco turned his head to look at Ron. He didn't respond to the comment, just started to add the ingredients that were sitting out on the table. One at a time, one right after the other, he added them. Hermione happened to look up and see him reach for the Mandrake leaves. "Draco!" Hermione said quickly. His head snapped up and he glared at her. "What??" he replied, rather annoyed. "You're going to melt your cauldron if you put the Mandrake leaves in before the fluxweed," she replied, very softly. Draco still looked incensed, but glanced at the Mandrake leaves in his hand and then over at his cauldron. She's right, he thought. "Oh, thank you." He actually sounded genuine. "You're welcome," she whispered. She could feel the blood rushing into her face. She returned to her dicing. "Are you done dicing then, Hermione?" Harry asked her. She made two more cuts, nodded her head, and added the fluxweed to the cauldron. "And the Mandrake leaves." Harry sprinkled them into the concoction and watched as it simmered, turning into a glorious late autumn orange. "Are we done?" Hermione nodded her head, glancing back over at Draco. He caught her glance this time, staring at her with his amazing blue-grey eyes. She immediately looked back at the potion, staring at it, as if it were really interesting. Curiosity got the better of her; she looked back up again. Draco's eyes were fixed on her. She held his gaze for a moment and gave him a half smile. He turned his head toward the front of the classroom. He said nothing, but Hermione could see a faint smile on his lips. The moment was cut short when Snape stepped up behind her. He nodded at their potion and walked around to the other side of the table where Draco and Ron were seated. Draco didn't even seem to notice that Snape was standing there. He simply stared at the door. "Mr. Malfoy, are you well?" Snape asked, actually seeming concerned. But Draco was, after all, a Slytherin. And Snape, as head of Slytherin House, tended to favor them above all others, especially Gryffindor. "Yes, sir." Draco responded, not moving at all. Snape shook his head and walked over toward Neville Longbottom, who had managed to melt his cauldron. The potion was dripping all over the floor. Snape became enraged and started shouting something ridiculous, but Hermione wasn't listening. She was focused on Draco's face again, still turned away from her. He looked absolutely perfect to her at this moment; the light was hitting his face just so that it illuminated his chiseled features. Hermione wanted time to stretch out infinitely so that she could watch that beautiful sight forever. Once Snape had made his rounds, however, the class packed up and started to leave. Ron and Harry were already out the door and waiting in the hallway by the time Hermione had placed everything in her bag. She started toward the door when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around. "Listen," Draco started, speaking very quietly. They continued to walk. "I wanted to thank you for stopping me earlier, I'm not thinking clearly today." Hermione's eyes opened very wide. She could feel the blood rush into her face. "It's nothing, really." She dropped her chin, trying to suppress a smile. "No, it's not nothing. I mean, I realize that you only said it to keep Weasley out of trouble, but thanks." There wasn't a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "You're very welcome, Draco." His name rolled off of her tongue so easily, it was as if she had been saying it her entire life. "You know, even if you hadn't been working with Ron, I still would've warned you." He reached for the door handle and swung it wide open. Hermione was surprised when he motioned for her to go through first. "Thanks," she said. She saw Harry and Ron standing a little further down the hallway and started off after them. Turning around mid-step, she could see Draco, still holding the door open, peering around the corner at her as she walked away. She smiled at him over her shoulder. He gave her a half wave and walked in the other direction.  
  
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Later that day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking toward the Great Hall for lunch. Ron had been complaining for the last half hour about his stomach pains, and Harry had chimed in as well. Hermione often wondered why she put up with the two of them the way that she did. "I hope that lunch is good today," Ron said hungrily. He patted his stomach with his left hand. "Lunch is always good here," replied Harry. "Where do you think we are? One of those American schools?" He and Ron laughed a bit before they realized Hermione wasn't joining them. "Hermione," Harry said, trying to be helpful, "Snap out of it, will you?" When she didn't respond, he shrugged and continued talking with Ron. They turned a corner. "Well, well, if it isn't the Great Harry Potter and his sidekick, Weasel." Crabbe somehow always managed to find this an amusing thing to say. Goyle waddled up next to him. "So Weasley, is your girlfriend going to rescue you this time, too?" "Rescue me from what?" Ron had a look of utter annoyance on his face. "Wait," he said, pointing at Hermione, "She's not my girlfriend!" "Oh, so you can't get a girl either, eh?" The two continued to laugh. "Not that I'd call her a girl." Crabbe said the same thing to her almost daily, usually followed by something like *a bucktoothed* or *a puffy haired--* something or other. Hermione felt a sting in her eyes. "More like a-" "Can it, Crabbe," came an unexpected voice. Draco stepped out of the shadowy hallway. He brushed his blond hair out of his eyes as he continued to speak. "She didn't do anything to you, leave her alone." Ron, Harry, Crabbe, Goyle, and Hermione stared at him in amazement. Not one of them spoke. Draco looked rather uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He watched as Hermione brushed away the tears that had spilled onto her bright red cheeks. He felt a stab of guilt and fought the impulse to hug her. The silence was unnerving. Finally, he spoke again. "Come on, I'm starving." He led Crabbe and Goyle into the Great Hall, glancing at Hermione as he passed by her. His hand brushed against hers, and she felt a small piece of paper pressed into her palm; her fingers closed tightly around it. Her heart was beating so loudly she was surprised that the house elves down in the kitchen hadn't come to ask what all the noise was about. Hermione couldn't even concentrate on eating during lunch. She just kept pushing the food around the plate, tapping her feet on the floor, and glancing up at the clock, trying to pass the time quickly. Lunch had NEVER lasted this long before, of this she was absolutely certain. She was dying to see what the piece of paper was about but she couldn't very well open it right here in front of everyone. "Hermione, for God's sake, eat something, will you?" Ron took another bite of his roll. "I mean," he swallowed and took another bite, "Crabbe is just.an insufferable git." He took a long drink of punch before continuing. "They all are. Don't even worry about those blasted Slytherins." Hermione nodded and took a small bite of her shepherd's pie. As the food rolled around in her mouth, she went over and over the situation that had just occurred in the corridor. Draco Malfoy came to my rescue. The thought put the largest smile on her face. She could not control it. Harry and Ron looked at her as if she had suddenly gone mad. "Girls," Ron mouthed at Harry, and the two of them laughed it off as they stood to go back to the Gryffindor common room. "Are you coming with us or are you just going to go completely insane right here?" Ron wanted to know.  
  
"I'll be along in a moment," she started. "Oh, actually, I forgot. There is a book I need to return to the library. I'll meet you back there." Ron nodded and walked off after Harry who already halfway across the room. Once they were out of sight, Hermione stood and walked briskly toward the hallway. She found an empty classroom and went inside. She pulled the small piece of paper from her pocket. It was actually much larger than she had thought; Draco had merely folded it carefully. Her hands shaking with anticipation and excitement, as well as dread that it might contain something awful, Hermione slowly opened it.  
  
Dear Hermione, I want to start out by saying how sorry I am for everything I have ever done to you.  
  
I'd like a chance to explain myself, if you'll give me that, but Lord knows I don't deserve it. If by some small miracle you decide you will hear me out, meet me tonight after dinner in the Great Hall.  
  
I know a place where we can talk. Sincerely yours,  
  
Draco P.S. Crabbe is a moron. I think you're a beautiful girl.  
  
Hermione sank to the floor, trying to hold back her tears as she read and reread the note. Could it really be true? She ran her fingers over the last line, "I think you're a beautiful girl." She hugged the note to her chest and closed her eyes, leaning back against the wall. Her dreams were coming true.  
  
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"Where the heck is Hermione?" Ron asked Harry. It was nearly dinnertime and they hadn't seen her for a couple of hours. "Did she ever come back from the library?" Harry thought about this for a few minutes. "Yeah, I think I saw her go up to her room a while ago," he replied. "What was she doing checking out books this early in the year?" "You know Hermione," said Ron. They both laughed. Hermione took one last glance in the mirror. She wanted to look special tonight, but was afraid to do anything drastic for fear that someone might notice. And she only wanted one person to notice her tonight: Draco. Every time she said his name, her face would break out into a smile. She pulled a comb through her hair, trying to smooth it down. She wasn't the type of girl who wore make up (or owned makeup, for that matter), so she borrowed a bit from Parvati and Lavender. They were so excited when she asked for it that they offered to give her a full makeover on the spot. She promised them that they could another time, and they seemed satisfied. She managed to escape their little "Makeover Hermione Planning Session," but not before getting doused with Lavender's newest perfume creation. It made her sneeze, but it smelled rather pretty, sort of a mix of wildflowers. I hope Draco likes it.she thought as the descended the staircase. Harry and Ron were too busy laughing about something Neville had said when she walked into the Gryffindor common room to notice her. They only turned around when they saw the astonished expression on Neville's face. Both Harry and Ron gaped at her. She looked.pretty. "Sorry for making you wait. Lavender and Parvati decided to give me a makeover," she lied. "What do you think?" She looked at them hopefully. Ron and Harry just stood there, dumbfounded, but Neville spoke up. "You look beautiful, Hermione," he said, blushing a little. Harry nodded enthusiastically in agreement. He elbowed Ron in the ribs. "Beautiful," was all Ron could say. Hermione flashed them a huge smile. "Thanks, you guys. Let's go to dinner." She turned and crawled through the portrait on the wall. Ron and Harry scampered after her, with Neville in tow. When they arrived in the Great Hall, Hermione was so excited she could barely stand it. She searched the Slytherin table for Draco, but he wasn't there yet. She made sure to seat herself so that she could see the entire table as well as the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry and Ron immediately began passing the platters of food around, loading up their plates. Hermione took a roll and a slice of pie, always returning her eyes to the Slytherin table every few seconds. She had a spoonful of soup in her mouth when Draco finally walked into the room. She nearly spit it out all over Harry but managed to swallow it instead. She wiped her mouth quickly with her napkin and pretended to be engaged in conversation with Ron, although not very convincingly. Draco made his way over to the Slytherin table and seated himself at the head of it. He quickly glanced over at the Gryffindor table, noted where Hermione was seated, and engaged in conversation with the other Slytherins. After the conversation got going, he looked over again, this time making eye contact with her. He raised his eyebrows a bit as if to say, "Will you meet me tonight?" and she nodded discreetly. He gave her a tiny smile and turned his attention back to the conversation at his table. It had taken him forever to get ready. He couldn't get his hair to lie down like he wanted it to. His robes were hanging funny and his shoes were scuffed. But a few small spells had taken care of most of his problems, except for one. He had never been so nervous in his life. Harry and Ron seemed more dull than usual this evening and just like at lunch, the time seemed to drag on forever. Hermione finally succeeded in amusing herself by resting her chin on her hands and staring up at the enchanted ceiling above her. The sky was clear tonight and the stars shone more brightly than usual. She watched as a shooting star shot past. Make a wish, it seemed to say. I want Draco, was all she could think of. What seemed like hours later, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were the last of the Gryffindors still in the Great Hall. A few Hufflepuffs were still enjoying the dessert. All of the Ravenclaws had left. Draco sat alone at the Slytherin table, stirring his now melted ice cream. He looked over at Hermione and smiled. She smiled back at him. Harry and Ron stood to leave. Hermione stayed seated. "Let me guess," Harry started, "Library?" "Something like that," Hermione replied mysteriously. Rather than question her about it, he just shook his head at her, cracking up. "Well, you have fun with your books. See you later then!" She watched the two of them walk out of the hall, seeing Ron grab Harry's glasses and run off with them. She rolled her eyes and smiled after them. When she turned back to her own table, Draco was sitting across from her. "So you'll talk with me then?" he asked, his eyes wide. "Yes, I'll talk with you." He smiled at her, nodded, and rose to his feet. She followed after him silently. They walked down a long hallway and turned a corner. Draco looked around to see that no one was coming and they continued. "Where are we going?" Hermione whispered. Draco said nothing, just pointed to a very small door at the end of the hallway. "In there?" she asked. He nodded. As they neared the door, the two of them heard voices coming from the far end of the corridor. They both picked up speed. When the reached it, Draco motioned for her to go through first, and he followed. Once inside, Hermione took out her wand. "Lumos," she whispered, and the tip of her wand glowed, filling the small space with light. Draco turned toward the door. "Arceostium," he said softly, and the door locked itself firmly. He slowly turned around. One look at Hermione and he couldn't help from smiling. "You look really beautiful tonight," he told her sincerely. She blushed. "Thank you," she replied. She sat down on a large couch in the corner of the room. Draco sat next to her. He wasn't quite sure where to begin, so he decided to get right to the point. "I owe you an apology," he started. "Ever since I met you, I have treated you like an inferior. I thought that being a pure blood meant that I was automatically better than you, above you. But I'm not." He looked down at his hands. "I hate myself for making you cry." She looked at him, astonished. "When have you seen me cry?" she asked gently. "You cried earlier today, I saw that." "But you didn't make me cry, then. That was Crabbe-" "I've made you cry before. I know I have because I used to revel in it. I used to love to watch you cry. But now.I don't even know why I ever called you a mudbl-" He couldn't finish the word. He closed his eyes. "I grew up thinking that my father was always right, that everything he said was the truth. He was the one that told me that purebloods were the only true wizards and stupidly I believed him." "What made you change your mind?" Her voice was calm. He looked into her eyes. "You." He said it almost in a whisper. "I have watched you the past six years. You're so talented, Hermione. You can transfigure things better than the entire class and even Snape would have to admit that you're awfully good at potions." He smiled at her. "I watched you and then I looked at other purebloods like me, and I realized that what my father said was crazy." His voice grew serious. "I got into the habit of making fun of you to cover up for the fact that I was so jealous. And to make my father proud. I pick on Harry because he's so famous. And I pick on Ron because he is your friend. I still want to smack myself for what I said this morning to him." He hung his head. He had never said any of these things to anyone, ever. "Hermione, I know that this is a lot to ask, but, could you ever learn to forgive me for being so stupid?" he pleaded. Hermione reached out and took his hand in hers. She stared into his eyes for a few moments before answering. "Draco, I forgive you." She kissed his hand. "I forgive you," she whispered. "How can you forgive me so quickly?" His eyes glistened a little bit. "I've been awful to you. I treated you like you weren't human." his voice wavered. "Draco, listen to me." Hermione ran her fingers down the side of his face. "I forgive you." He shook his head. "I forgive you," she said, louder this time. He looked up at her, tears welling up in his eyes. She leaned forward, taking in his scent, the softness of his hair. Their lips were nearly touching. "I forgive you," she whispered. She kissed him very gently. His lips quavered against hers. She slid one hand behind his head and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Her fingers became entangled in his hair. Draco slowly wrapped his arms around her, melting into the feel of her mouth on his. Hermione could taste his tears as they dripped down his face. When she finally pulled away, they sat, gazing into each other's eyes. He traced the outline of her jaw with his finger. "You are so beautiful," he whispered. He kissed her gently. She rested her head upon his shoulder, taking in the feel of his arms around her, protecting her. "I could stay like this forever." he murmured. "Hermione?" "Yes?" "Can we stay like this forever? I don't want to lose you, not now." "I don't want to lose you either, but Draco," she spoke softly, "If anyone finds out about us, it's likely to cause a stir." "I know," he whispered, marveling in the softness of her skin. "I know." The seconds passed by swiftly as the two held each other, comforted one another. When it was time to leave, Draco kissed her one last time, savoring the taste of her lips. "I'll see you tomorrow, potions," he smiled. He couldn't wait that long to see her again, but he would have to. She ran her fingers through his hair. "I'll see you then." She kissed him on the cheek and ducked out the door, returning to the Gryffindor common room. Draco walked quickly back to his own dormitory, smiling like a lovesick fool the entire time.  
  
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The next few months passed by in a similar matter. The two of them would meet in the small room just after dinner and stay there for a few hours, enjoying the moments that they could spend together. Draco began to open up to her more, telling her every little detail that he could think of about his life, save one. He couldn't manage to tell her about his father's wish for him to become a Death Eater. He knew that he had to tell her, but he had no idea how. What would she say? He decided to talk to her about it that night. But the small room where they always met didn't seem like the right place. During potions, he managed to partner up with her. "Hermione," he whispered as not to draw attention to the two of them. "Yes?" she replied, counting out lacewings. "I really need to talk to you tonight." There, he said it. "Okay, same place?" She added the lacewings to the cauldron. "Well, I was hoping that maybe we could take a walk around the grounds tonight." He looked at her anxiously. She smiled. "Do you think Harry would let you borrow his invisibility cloak? That way, if we come in late, we won't get caught." Hermione got a thoughtful look on her face. "I can always ask him. I'm pretty sure he'll let me borrow it." She stirred the concoction. It was a funny blue color. "Great! Either way, meet me at the entrance to Hogwarts at around-" "Eleven?" Hermione finished for him. "Sounds good to me," he added as he placed a bit of phoenix feather into the cauldron. A puff of smoke blew into their faces. "Excellent," said Snape, who had walked up behind them. "Good work, Mr. Malfoy." "Thank you, sir," Draco replied. Snape nodded and walked away. Draco turned to Hermione. "You deserve that praise a WHOLE lot more than I do." He nudged her with his foot. He didn't move it away immediately, either. It was as intimate as they could afford to be in potions. Snape dismissed the class. "Good work today," Draco whispered to her. "See you tonight," he added as he packed his bag and headed toward the door. She watched him leave, saddened a bit but excited for the evening.  
  
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It was about ten minutes before she was supposed to meet Draco, and Hermione still hadn't worked up the courage to talk to Harry about the invisibility cloak. She wasn't supposed to go up to the boy's dormitory, but she seriously doubted that Professor McGonagall would catch her. It wasn't like Professor McGonagall would be there, either. She tiptoed out of her room and down the staircase. She traversed the common room and started up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Once she reached the top, she slowly opened the door. Which one is Harry? she wondered. It was awfully dark in the room. She finally saw his glasses laying on a nightstand by one of the beds. Very quietly, went to his side and shook him awake. He sat up with a start. "Who is it?" he asked sleepily. "It's me, Hermione. I need a favor." "At this hour? You're not even supposed to be in here." He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Hermione tapped him on the shoulder. "Yes, I know. Listen; can I borrow your invisibility cloak? It's just for tonight." Harry mumbled something that she couldn't understand very well. It sounded something like, "What is it with girls?" but Hermione couldn't be sure. He reached underneath his bed and drew out the silver material. "Be careful with it," he whispered to her. "Where are you going, anyway?" "I will, thank you Harry!" She kissed him on the cheek and ran down the stairs, clutching the invisibility cloak. Harry stared after her, bewildered that she hadn't answered his question. What was she up to? He had to know. If Hermione was doing something stupid, as her friend, Harry was obligated to help, right? It sounded good to him, anyway. He fished around in his drawer for the Marauder's Map. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said to it. The intricate map of Hogwarts unfolded before him. Thank you Dad, Sirius and Professor Lupin, he thought. Harry couldn't see well in the dark. "Lumos," he said, lighting up his wand. That still didn't help, so he reached for his glasses. Much better. He could see Hermione's dot racing out of Gryffindor tower and toward the entrance to the school. When Harry looked there, however, he did a double take. In the front hall was another dot, which was waiting (or so it appeared) for Hermione. This can't be right, Harry thought. Hermione's dot approached the other one, and Harry watched in horror as the two went through the front door and out onto the Hogwarts' grounds. Hermione is seeing Draco Malfoy? Hermione and Draco ran hand in hand across the grass until they came to a small area surrounded by bushes. There was a tiny bench there, just big enough for two. They draped the cloak over their legs, laughing when they disappeared. Draco put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against him. The time had come to tell her. "Hermione," he said, his breath could be seen in the cold air. "I have to tell you something awful." She looked into his eyes with a pained expression. "Are you okay?" she asked, worried. "I hope so." He looked up at the stars. "Hermione, my father wants me to become a Death Eater." He heard her gasp. "Soon. I don't want to join with Voldemort. I don't even think like that anymore. But I don't know what to do. I can't let down my father, it would disgrace my entire family. But on the other hand, it's my life." He felt her settle against him. "Draco, your father cannot make you do something that you don't want to do." She reached up and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "I know you. You are strong and you will get through this, we both will. Together." He kissed the top of her head. "I just feel so lost sometimes." His voice was quiet. "I know you do," Hermione said gently. "Everyone feels lost at one point in their lives." She ran her fingers down his arm and took his hand in hers. "You know what I think you should do?" "What?" he closed his eyes and leaned against her, their fingers entwined. "I think that if you are really seriously against this, you should talk to Dumbledore. He'll protect you against Voldemort and your father, if he has to. And if worse comes to worse, you can always stay with my parents and me. Or Ron's, I know they'll take you in." "You would do that for me?" "I would do anything for you, Draco." Her voice faded at the end of the sentence. His grip on her hand tightened. "Hermione, I have something to give you." They both sat up as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small object. It glistened in the starlight. He handed it to her, watching her face for her reaction. "It's beautiful," she said, turning it over in her hands. It was a ring, made entirely of gold, in the shape of a dragon. Its head was thrown back, as if in a great roar; its sapphire eye was sparkling. She turned to Draco. "Thank you." He slipped it onto her left hand. She kissed him softly. "You know that if I could, I would tell the world that you are my girlfriend." He studied her eyes. They remained bright despite a definite weariness. "I know," came the quiet response. "I think I'll talk to Dumbledore tomorrow," Draco said quietly. Hermione settled against him again, gazing at the ring. He slid his arm around her, holding her close. "Draco," she began. "Yes?" The reply never came. Draco looked down to see Hermione fast asleep, her lips turned up in a smile. He smoothed her hair with one hand. How had he ever lived without her?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
When Hermione awoke, she was in Draco's arms, being carried back to the Gryffindor common room. She had disclosed its whereabouts to him weeks ago. He had draped the invisibility cloak over the two of them. She breathed in deeply, taking in his musky scent. She loved that about him. She loved so many things about him. His strength, his kindness. She loved him. Draco stopped walking and slowly lowered her to the ground. He ran his fingers over her face and bent down to kiss her. Her eyelids fluttered open. "You fell asleep," he whispered. "I brought you back to your dormitory. Will you be all right?" She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. God, she could never get enough of him. The Fat Lady was quite confused. She could hear voices but had no idea where they were coming from. "Hello?" she called. "Is anyone there?" "I'll see you tomorrow," Draco said as he kissed Hermione goodbye. He pulled off the cloak and started down the hallway. Hermione turned back to the painting, still concealed by the cloak. She was about to say the password when the painting swung open. "Hermione? Is that you?" It was Harry. Hermione pulled the invisibility cloak off of her head and climbed through the wall. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" he whispered to her. She shook her head. "Hermione, it's almost two in the morning! Where have you been?" It was no use keeping it from him any longer. She walked over to the armchair closest to the fire and sat down, hugging her knees. "I took a walk outside." It was partially the truth. "Hermione, I could hear voices in the hallway. I know that you were with someone. And I know that it was Draco Malfoy." He stopped, a bit enraged. "How could you know that? We were whispering. You couldn't possibly have heard his voice through the wall." She looked at his guilt-ridden face. "You didn't, you wouldn't, Harry-" "Wouldn't what?" "You did, didn't you? You were spying on me with that map of yours! Harry, you had no right-" Her voice was growing louder. "I had every right!" He hissed at her. "What were you thinking? How long has this been going on?" He was fairly sure he knew that answer already. Hermione sighed and gave in. "Do you remember the day when Crabbe said I wasn't even a girl and Draco yelled at him?" "Yes," Harry answered. "Ever since that night, we've, um, we've been seeing each other." She saw the look on Harry's face. "He's not a monster, Harry. He's everything that I have ever wanted. I'm finally happy, Harry. Please don't take that from me." Harry's face softened. "Do you love him?" The anger was gone from his voice. Hermione nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "Is that from him?" He pointed at the ring on her hand. She nodded again. He inhaled deeply and then let the air out very slowly before he spoke again. "Hermione, I won't say anything to Ron or to anyone about this. If you really love him, I support you completely. I just don't want to see you hurt." "I know, Harry." Hermione closed her eyes. "Hermione, wake up." Harry stood up and walked over to Hermione. "You're going up to your own bed before McGonagall finds you down here. Come on." He ushered her over to her staircase. He gave her a quick hug and then went up to his room. Hermione smiled, glad to have a friend like Harry. She slowly climbed the steps, spelling out Draco's name. D-R-A-C-O, D-R-A-C-O. She continued in this pattern all the way to the top. She settled into bed that night, gazing at the tiny dragon on her ring finger. "I love you, Draco," she whispered to it before falling into a deep sleep. He was in her dreams, as always.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The next morning at breakfast, Dumbledore motioned for silence in the Great Hall. He stood before them, a majestic figure in his purple robes speckled with silver stars. "Good morning, students. As many of you may have already realized, the holiday season is quickly approaching us. That means, for those students in year four and higher, that our annual Yule Ball will take place rather soon, in early December. Seeing as it is already November, you may want to start making your plans now. That is all." He sat back down with the other teachers and immediately struck up a conversation with Professor Sprout. Hermione stared miserably at the ceiling, playing with the ring on her finger (So far, no one had asked about it, and she figured that when they did, she would tell them it was something she had picked up in Hogsmeade). How could she have forgotten the Yule Ball? She had gone twice already, the first time with Victor Krum, and last year with Ron. But how could she go this year? If she and Draco showed up together, it would cause pandemonium. Her eyes darted to the Slytherin table. Draco looked over at her, smiling. She smiled back at him. "Hermione," Harry said to her from across the table, "Are you going to go? To the ball, I mean." She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know." She looked at the dragon's sapphire eye. "You?" Harry smiled knowingly. "Of course. I promised Ginny that I'd go with her this year. I'm glad she never gave up on me. She's pretty great." He looked down the table at where Ginny was sitting. She melted the instant their eyes met. "Harry, when did this happen?" Hermione wanted to know. She realized how much she had been missing out in Gryffindor activities. But, she thought to herself, it's definitely been worth it. "About two weeks ago. I dropped my books, she helped me pick them up and, I don't know. There was something in her eyes.I don't know why I never noticed it before." Harry grinned and turned back to Hermione. "Anyway, you're the first to really know about it. We don't want to tell Ron yet." "Tell me what?" asked Ron as he seated himself next to Harry. Hermione thought quickly. "About the Yule Ball. We both know how you hate dances." She bit into a muffin. "Oh, right," continued Harry. "Well, you might as well know about it. It's in early December. You'd better get looking for a date." Ron rolled his eyes. "I have my eyes on a couple of girls," he said slyly. He and Harry started to joke around. Hermione returned her gaze to the ceiling. It was cloudy today, probably snowing. She felt awful inside. Draco would never want to appear as a couple in front of the entire school. She buried her face in her hands. "What's the matter with her?" Ron asked Harry. Harry shrugged. Girls, they both mouthed and continued laughing. Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She stood up, mumbled something about going to the library and headed off down the hallway toward the little room where she and Draco often met. She checked to see that no one was coming and stepped inside. The room was empty, thankfully no ghosts hanging around. She shut the door and collapsed onto the small couch. She stared at the tiny dragon on her hand. Her eyes began to sting. Don't cry, she told herself. Not now. But she couldn't stop the tears from falling. She covered her face with her hands. Footsteps sounded outside of the room. Hermione held her breath as the door opened wide. Someone stepped inside and closed the door. It was Draco. He saw her sitting on the couch and immediately went over to her. He pulled her hands away from her face and saw that she had been crying. "Hermione, oh my god, what is it?" He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently. She continued to cry, burying her face in his neck. "Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?" "No," she whispered into his ear. "You'll think this is so stupid." "I will never think that anything you have to say is stupid, Hermione, never." He moved his hands in slow circles on her back. "Professor Dumbledore mentioned the Yule Ball this morning at breakfast and, and-" She started crying again. "I want to go with you more than anything in the world but I'm afraid that if we do." She stopped to take a breath. "Hermione, we'll go to that ball. We may not be able to walk in together but we'll both be there. I promise." "Why do we have to be from the two houses that hate one another?" It didn't seem fair. She wanted nothing more than to be able to walk into a room and declare loudly, I am Hermione Granger and this is my boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. "We won't be able to dance, will we." She sounded miserable. "We'll dance, Hermione. Even if it isn't on the dance floor, even if we have to find an empty hallway, we'll dance." He kissed her gently on the lips, pulling her closer. His tongue met with her lips and they opened slightly. Their tongues began to dance with one another, reminding Draco of the flames he had watched months ago. When the kiss ended, they sat side by side. He gripped her hand. "I spoke with Dumbledore this morning before breakfast," he said. "He told me that he would do everything in his power to help me stay away from Voldemort. I don't have to become a Death Eater after all." He felt relieved. Hermione hugged him. "I'm so proud of you. You're the bravest person that I know. I love that about you." Embarrassed by her last comment, she kissed him quickly. "Well, I have to study this afternoon, but I'll see you tonight?" He kissed her back. "Definitely. Right here?" "Right here." She smiled and left the room. Draco leaned back on the couch in amazement, "I love that about you." No one had ever said that to him before, not even his parents. Hermione loved his bravery. Did that mean, perhaps, that one day, she might love him too? He sighed as he exited the tiny room and started back toward the Slytherin common room.  
  
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November passed by quickly and soon December was upon Hogwarts. The Great Hall had been decorated for the holiday season already, decked out with Christmas trees and real icicles hanging from the ceiling. It was magical. The Yule Ball was that evening. The Gryffindor girls were frantically rushing about their room, trying to smooth the wrinkles out of their dress robes and eek the last bit of hair tonic out of their bottles. Hermione had spent the afternoon trying to control her hair, which kept trying to fly up at strange angles. Her blue dress robes were lying across her bed. She stared into the mirror in front of her. She dreaded the evening before her as much as she looked forward to it. She was not terribly excited at the prospect of sitting and watching other people dance when she could be dancing with Draco. And for all she knew, he might even dance with someone else. Maybe even that horrible Pansy Parkinson. Hermione shivered at the thought. She looked down at the tiny dragon on her finger. The sapphire sparkled when she turned her hand one way or the other. She gave the dragon a small kiss. Ginny had already been in the room three times already to ask if anyone had some earrings that she could borrow. All three times, the sixth years had told her no, but she was rather tenacious. Parvati and Lavender were concocting the perfect perfume to wear for the evening. They tried at least seventeen different scents before finally deciding on a classic vanilla fragrance for Parvati, and a fruity scent for Lavender. Parvati was going with Ron and Lavender with Neville. Neither of them expected to stay with their dates very long, but they decided they should at least smell nice for them. The time up until the ball was waning. Hermione had been thoroughly made over by Parvati and Lavender. Her lips were tinged red, her eyes rimmed with grey. Her cheekbones stood out against her otherwise pale face. She looked older, more mature. Her hair was finally under control, swept off of her face in a sort of twisted arrangement, which Hermione could not see the back of for the lack of a second mirror. All she had to do was put on her dress robes. Sighing, she stood up and walked over to them. They were a beautiful shade of periwinkle blue. She smoothed her hand over the soft, satiny fabric. On the other side of the school, Draco stood in front of the mirror, combing his hair into place. His dress robes were black but stylish. He smiled at himself, trying to convince himself that he possessed confidence. Everyone in Slytherin was dying to know who Draco's secret date to the ball was (He had been forced to say that he was going with someone when Pansy had batter her eyes at him and insisted that they go together). And tonight, they would find out. Everyone would. He didn't want to hide Hermione away in a closet forever. He wanted to show her off. "Hermione, are you coming?" Ginny called from the common room. Hermione smoothed the front of her dress robes, took one last glimpse of herself in the mirror and started down the stairs. She was the last one to enter the common room. All of the other Gryffindors turned to look up at her. Ginny was clinging onto Harry's arm. Harry, in his dark green robes, was smiling at her. Ron, in his fancy black dress robes (a secret present from Harry), and Parvati were discussing the new perfume scent, and Neville was gaping at Lavender's beauty. Under normal circumstances Hermione would have laughed at the situation, but she was sad that she would not have anyone to enter the ballroom with. She trailed after the other Gryffindors, following them down the winding hallways of Hogwarts to the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall was supervising the entrance. When she saw Hermione standing alone, she immediately walked over to her. "Why Hermione! Don't you have a date for this evening?" She looked surprised (though not as surprised as Hermione was to see that Professor McGonagall's usual bun had been replaced by an elegant French Twist). "Oh, well, yes but not exactly, you see-" Hermione stammered, not sure exactly what to say. She was mortified at the moment. "I only ask because Mr. Malfoy, you see, does not have a date either and I was thinking," there was a twinkle in her eyes, "that perhaps the two of you could enter together." Hermione looked behind Professor McGonagall and there, walking out from the shadows, was Draco. She had never seen him look like this. His face was flushed with excitement, his eyes a vivid shade of blue; not a trace of gray was to be seen in them. His blond hair just covered up his forehead. His eyes lit up when they met hers. She could not take her eyes away from him. Professor McGonagall smiled. "I'll have the table arrangements moved," she said. Neither one of them really heard her, but they both nodded and walked toward each other. "You," Draco said, beaming with pride, "look absolutely beautiful." Hermione blushed. "I'm serious. You look beautiful every day but tonight." He twirled her around. She laughed. "Thank you. You look very nice yourself." He offered his arm and she took it. Both of their hearts were beating a million times a second, it felt like. They neared the entrance. Hermione could hear the couples in front of them announced. "Miss Lavender Brown escorted by Mr. Neville Longbottom." "Oh, before I forget," Draco said as he handed Hermione a white rose. She mouthed, "thank you" to him, gripping his arm tighter. "Are you nervous?" he asked. "About what, blowing our cover?" She laughed a little. "Yes, but I'm excited about it too. We won't have to live in secret any more." "No, we won't." He smiled down at her. "I can't wait." He didn't have to either because the next thing they heard was, "Miss Hermione Granger escorted by Mr. Draco Malfoy." Silence fell over the Great Hall as the two entered, arm in arm. There was no sound, from anyone. With the exception of Professor McGonagall, the other professors had stopped whatever they had been doing to join in the staring. Snape had his goblet halfway to his mouth, the expression on his face was absolutely indescribable; Dumbledore was scratching his ear; Professor Sprout had the expression, "Oh!" frozen on her face. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws stared at one another and over at Hermione and Draco, just to make sure that they had heard correctly. The Slytherins just stared, their mouths open. Pansy had a look of complete horror on her face and was giving the evil eye to Hermione. Crabbe and Goyle kept mouthing, "What?" over and over. Several of the Gryffindors looked at each other, completely confused. Neville and Lavender smiled. Ron was beside himself, ready to roll on the floor with laughter. Ginny's eyes were wide. Parvati was bewildered. But Harry Potter gave Hermione a huge smile and started to clap. He was soon joined by the rest of his table. The applause slowly spread around the room until even Snape found himself joining in. Draco led Hermione over to the table where Harry and Ginny were already seated. The eyes of the entire hall followed them. "Well," said Harry with a grin after they sat down. "You two certainly know how to make an entrance!" The last of the couples slowly trickled in, none of them receiving the attention that Draco and Hermione were enjoying. Dumbledore motioned for the band to start playing and soon the Great Hall was filled with music. Harry and Ginny stood immediately and rushed over to the dance floor. Ron was thinking of excuses why he couldn't possibly dance, much to the dismay of Parvati. Neville was trampling over Lavender's feet, but both of them looked as though they were having a good time. Draco took both of Hermione's hands in his. "Dance with me," he whispered, looking deeply into her eyes. She smiled at him, her eyes shining. "In front of everyone?" "Why not? Everyone has seen us together already. I don't want to hide this anymore. We have nothing to be ashamed of." He kissed her cheek and stood up. "Come on," he held out his hand. "We'll make them all jealous." Hermione stood up and took Draco's outstretched hand, allowing him to lead her out to the middle of the dance floor. A slow song was playing. The entire room seemed to turn in order to watch the two of them together. Hermione was a bit taken aback by this and she stiffened, visibly uncomfortable. Draco placed one hand on Hermione's waist and enclosed her hand in the other. Slowly, they began to sway back and forth to the rhythm of the song. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to ignore the people that were staring at the two of them. She felt herself melt against the heat of Draco's body. She gently leaned her head against his shoulder. His arm slid further around her waist, pulling her up against him. She breathed deeply, taking in his scent. It comforted her. She relaxed, moving her hand to the back of his neck. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair. It was the perfect moment, the kind only found in dreams. "Hermione?" Draco spoke softly. His eyes were half closed, lost in the moment. "Yes?" He pulled back enough so that he could look into her eyes. "Hermione," his voice wavered the slightest bit, "I love you. I'm in love with you." His eyes searched her face, awaiting some kind of a response. Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "I love you too, Draco." She couldn't speak anymore. She smiled as the tears spilled down her face. Draco leaned forward until his lips were just barely touching hers. "I love you so much-" his lips met hers. He kissed her gently. Another round of applause broke out in the Great Hall, initiated by none other than Professor Dumbledore. Hermione and Draco were unphased by it. They merely smiled, lost in each other's eyes. Arms wrapped around each other, they floated across the floor, both of them truly happy for the first time in their lives. Neither one was sure what the future held in store for them. And it didn't really matter, they realized, as long as they had each other.  
  
  
  
~The End~  
  
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	2. Bittersweet Goodbyes

DISCLAMER: I do not own anything of this story Hi everybody, I said if I had enough reviews I would make a second chapter, and here it is. "Bittersweet Goodbyes". You'll see why I named it like this. Have fun reading. And don't forget: REVIEW!!!!!!  
  
Bittersweet Goodbyes  
  
"Just -- one -- more -- inch." Hermione Granger grritted her teeth as she pressed all of her weight onto the trunk's heavy lid, her brow furrowed in frustration, trying to narrow the gap that was, at the moment, preventing her from latching it shut. She had, as usual, crammed as many books as possible into her trunk for a bit of what she liked to call "light reading" over the Christmas holiday. A few mismatched socks were tucked here and there, holding the books into position for the long train ride back to King's Cross Station. "C'mon!" she strained, finally resolving to sit on top of it. The lid didn't budge a bit. "UGH!" she cried in desperation, sliding back onto the floor and lifting the lid to examine the contents. "Books, shoes, clothes, paper, quills.I can't possibly take anything out!" she exclaimed, stomping her foot. "Certainly not *The Thirteenth Use For Dragon's Blood*!" she added gloomily. It had been released only last month, and Hermione had only read through the first one hundred and eleven pages. Lavender Brown walked up behind her, laughing slightly at Hermione's desperation. "You know what I think, Hermione?" she said kindly. Hermione whirled around to face Lavender, her face steaming and arms akimbo. She had an exasperated expression so plainly written all over her face that made Lavender giggle a bit. "You aren't mad about your books not fitting in your trunk. I think the *real* reason you're upset is because you and Draco haven't been apart for more than a day since school began. Am I right?" she added with a knowing smile. Hermione blushed and stared at the floor. Was it really *that* obvious? "You'll survive, I promise you that! Christmas break is only two weeks long," Lavender continued, returning to her own packing, screwing up her face in contemplation as she decided which shoes to take home. "You two can owl each other a hundred times a day!" Hermione relished in the thought of receiving daily letters from Draco, but she was fairly sure that would not be possible. Draco would be returning to his family's mansion for break and couldn't very well be receiving mail from a muggle, let alone *write* to one while on Lucius' turf, could he? "Only two weeks," she muttered to herself, finally resolving to leave her pink v-neck shirt at school. It was one of Draco's favorites, but it would have to stay. He won't be around to see it anyway, she thought sullenly. Lifting it from the trunk, she disturbed a stack of photographs. One of them fluttered to the ground, landing face down on the cold stone floor. Hermione bent over and picked it up, a smile instantly lighting up her face when she looked at the faces beaming back at her. It was the picture Colin Creevy had taken of Draco and Hermione at the Yule Ball earlier in December. They were standing in the Great Hall, framed by the ornately decorated Christmas trees, the snowflakes slowly making their descent in the background. Draco was standing behind Hermione, both of his arms wrapped around her, their hands entwined. His silvery-blond hair was tumbling into his eyes which appeared much more blue than usual, nearly azure. That's funny, Hermione mused, Draco's eyes were nearly grey when school started. She dismissed the thought and returned her attention to the picture. Draco kept kissing Hermione's cheek, making her blush and giggle. Hermione sighed as she placed the picture back into her trunk and lowered the lid. "Only two weeks," she repeated to herself as she fastened the lock. She flopped down onto her bed. Grabbing a quill, she began to make calculations on a scrap of paper. "Fourteen days," she muttered under her breath, "That's three hundred and thirty six hours." Groaning, she rolled over onto her back. How was she going to survive that long without him? After all, one minute without Draco seemed like an eternity. Hermione held her hand up so that she could look at the ring he had given her. Peering into the dragon's sapphire eye, she could almost see Draco looking back at her through it. "I can't take this anymore," she announced to no one in particular, and nearly ran to the common room to wait for him.  
  
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Draco Malfoy had been in rather bad spirits ever since he had woken up earlier that day. The sun had been shining, he was in perfect health, and breakfast had never tasted so good-- but Draco was miserable. He was completely packed, sitting silently on top of his trunk in his dorm room. Not even a glimmer of a smile was evident upon his rather pointed features; his eyes boasted a gloomy expression. He held in his hands a small picture, one taken at the recent Yule Ball. It was an image of the two of them dancing; Draco's back was tilted slightly toward the camera, his head resting against Hermione's. She peeked over his shoulder, a look of serenity gracing her face. Hermione smiled up at him from the glossy paper, waving slightly before resting her head back against Draco's neck.. The *real* Draco sighed and tucked the picture into his pocket. Not only was he going to be away from Hermione for *two weeks* (an eternity), but in the same time span he was being forced to return to the Malfoy mansion, which meant returning to Lucius, to the threats, to the pressure of becoming a Death Eater. He didn't want to go back to all of that, but he really had no choice. Unless Draco was ready to *confront* his father about the whole Death Eater situation and face being disowned, he had to pretend nothing was wrong and revert to his old ways of life. He shuddered at the thought of practicing the dark arts in the dungeons of their home over the next two weeks with his father by his side, the way they had all summer. He could hear his father's icy voice instructing him, insulting him, humiliating him.never praising him. The lack of feeling in the voice struck him all the way to the core, chilling him from inside out, sucking from him any consoling thought. Draco began to shake uncontrollably. "You *will* make me proud, Draco!" Lucius' voice sliced through Draco's mind like a bullet. No, Draco thought, No! I'm not going back. I *won't* go back! He pulled out the picture again, gazing into Hermione's cinnamon eyes. Would she be done packing yet? he wondered, anxious to talk to her. She had seemed preoccupied at breakfast but had told him to stop by the Gryffindor tower before they left to catch the train. His thoughts were interrupted-- "You *will* make me proud as a Death Eater, Draco!" It was Lucius again, only louder this time. Draco covered his ears, trying to silence the voice that was ringing in them. This was how it had been at the beginning of the year: hearing Lucius' voice every waking hour, knowing that he had no control over his own future. Draco had become miserable, even suicidal. Death had looked far more inviting than becoming a member of Voldemort's ranks. He had been plotting it, planning it down to the last detail -- even the time his body would be discovered, twisted and unrecognizable, splayed on the rocky grounds beneath the tall tower. Jumping, he had determined, would be the ultimate form of self-liberation. But then there was that fateful day in potions, the day when Hermione, a *mudblood* (as he had called her up until then), had stopped him from blowing up himself and half of the classroom. She had no reason to do it, other than the fact that she was a decent human being. That was the day Draco realized that *everything* Lucius had ever said about purebloods and mudbloods, and good versus evil, was wrong, just as he had always suspected. Draco had managed to turn his life around, even going so far as to talk with Albus Dumbledore about how to avoid his near-certain destiny as one of Voldemort's own. And on top of all of that, he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. Draco held his hands up in front of his face; they were trembling. He shoved them deep into his pockets and briskly walked out of the door.  
  
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When Draco climbed through the portrait in the wall and into the Gryffindor common room, he was met with several confused stares. The entire Gryffindor house *knew* that he loved Hermione, but they were a bit curious as to exactly how *he* knew their password (or where their common room was, for that matter). He surveyed the room quickly. He saw Harry and Ginny in the far corner, foreheads nearly touching, gazing into each other's eyes with lovesick expressions. A few months ago, the sight would have made him physically ill, but now he was quite used to the lovesick look, seeing as it was plastered on his own face most of the time. Finally, he spotted the exact person he wanted to see across the room. Not wanting to cause any trouble (and being first and second years), the Gryffindors remained relatively silent and simply watched as he traversed the space and plopped down into a large chair, opposite a sleeping Hermione. Draco didn't seem to notice all of the attention. He sat and watched her for some time; she was curled up into a ball on the couch. Her chestnut hair was cascading over her shoulders and face like falling waters. Her eyes were closed; a slight smile hung at her lips. Rising to his feet, Draco moved onto the couch next to Hermione and took her in his arms. He lay down, pulling her on top of him. Kissing the top of her head, he gently stroked her hair with one hand, his other arm wrapped around her. "How am I going to survive two weeks without you?" he murmured softly, his eyes closed. "Three hundred and thirty six hours to be exact," he heard her reply, her voice a bit muffled. "Give or take a few for travel time, of course." She raised her head and looked at him, resting her chin on his chest. "Hi," she whispered, gazing into his blue-grey eyes. They aren't as blue as yesterday, she thought to herself. "Hi," he murmured, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears. He spoke his thoughts aloud to her. "I can't believe how fast this year is going by. It seems like yesterday that you stopped me in potions class and now it's Christmas break.I'm really going to miss you, Mione." She slowly ran her fingers down the side of his pale cheek, not looking into his eyes but memorizing every last detail of his face so that she would have something beautiful to think about during the vacation. "I know. I'm going to miss you too." She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "I love you," she whispered, lips just barely touching. "I love you too," Draco nearly choked out, his eyes beginning to sting. Something was really upsetting him, Hermione could tell. "Draco, what is it?" He could never lie to her. "I'm scared about going home," came the barely audible reply. "Because of your father?" Draco nodded. "He'll try to force me to join with Voldemort again, force me to sell my soul to that bastard so he can run my life!" A lone tear escaped from the corner of his eye. "And then they'll burn that horrid mark into my skin." His breath became ragged. "Oh, God, Hermione I can't go home! I can't go back to that!" He squeezed his eyes shut as she hugged him tightly. "Do you want to come home with me instead?" she offered, completely sincere. Draco smiled weakly. "It's just not that simple. If I don't go home, my father will know something is wrong. If I do go home." His voice trailed off. "I'll write you, every day, I promise. Morning and night, and probably in between. I'll go crazy if I don't. Your parents won't mind, will they?" She shook her head. "No, but yours will, won't they? If I write to you, I mean?" Hermione asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. Draco did not reply, just nodded sadly. "Can't I pretend to be someone else? Like Pansy?" It was half a joke, half serious. "I don't want you to get hurt, Mione," he said quietly. "It's impossible to hide things from Lucius." Draco no longer thought of Lucius as a father. "Even the paintings spy on me! If he finds letters from *you* in *his* home." Draco shuddered at the thought. "Even if we tried to encrypt them, I'm sure he'd find a counterspell. Besides, he puts trackers on all of our owls." "Won't he know that you're writing to me, then?" she asked, worried. "No, not unless he follows me. I know how to reverse the *outgoing* tracking spell," he said. "I figured it out during my third year. He'll never even know the owls have gone, there are so bloody many of them. But all *incoming* owls have to register with our house owlery.it's a rather complicated system, security reasons.he screens all of my mail. He read my Hogwarts acceptance letter before I did!" he laughed, a note of hurt in his voice. Hermione smoothed the hair out of his eyes. "I'll tell you what," she said. "I'm going to write you every day, and you can read every letter on the train ride back to Hogwarts once break is over." The sorrow in his eyes dissolved for the time being. "I sort of had other plans for the train ride back." he said with a mischievous grin, sliding one hand behind her neck. "Oh really?" Hermione played along. "And what would those plans entail, if I may inquire into such matters?" "Something like this." He brought her face down to meet his and began kissing her with his usual passion. But there was something different in the way he touched her this time, different from any other time he had kissed her: something that made Hermione the slightest bit uneasy. It wasn't lust or force; it wasn't desire and hunger. It wasn't something that she even wanted to acknowledge, because at times she had felt the same thing. It was the same unconcealed fear his eyes always held: the fear that he would never hold her again.  
  
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The train ride back to King's Cross station seemed to pass in merely seconds. Draco and Hermione managed to secure a compartment all to themselves, and they talked for quite a while, finally falling asleep in each other's arms. Draco awoke only a few minutes before the train arrived at the station and stared peacefully out of the window, watching as images melted together into one continuous blur of emeralds and sapphires that whipped past the glass and out of sight altogether. The sun was nearly overhead, dusting the treetops with a golden shimmer. Running his pale fingers through the tresses of caramel brown that spilled across his chest, he felt a twinge in his heart and an overwhelming sense of sadness. What if this is the last time-- he could not finish the thought. "Mione? We're nearly there," Draco said softly as he gently shook her awake. "Mione?" "Hmm?" "We're almost at the station, love," he told her, kissing her on the forehead. "Already?" came the dismayed reply. "I'm afraid so." Draco hung his head, staring at the cracks in the floor. Questions kept darting through his mind faster than Firebolts. What if I'm not strong enough to resist? What if they force me to join Voldemort? What if I come back to school, a Death Eater? Would she even talk to me again? What if I lose Hermoine? The thoughts consumed his mind, filling him with a level of fear the likes of which he had never known. It was pulsing through his veins, becoming a permanent part of him, etching itself into the walls of his heart. He looked up to find Hermione quietly studying his face, a worried expression on hers. He tried to smile at her, but she knew better. "Draco," she said, taking his hand in both of hers. He's so scared, she thought to herself as she lifted his hand to her lips. It was a beautiful gesture in all its simplicity. "I will *always* love you, no matter who your father is. Nothing can change the way I feel about you. Nothing. I know that you're scared about what you will have to face, about standing up for what you believe in, but that's what I love about you! You admit your fears and your faults, and that alone is what sets you apart from your father, and from Voldemort." Hermione was crying by now, salty tears leaving streaks on her skin. Draco brushed them away with his free hand. "But what if I'm too weak? What if I can't resist him? What if they burn that mark onto my arm? Will you love me then?" Draco felt as though an icy hand had plunged itself into the depths of his soul and stolen from him the one shred of happiness he had ever known, leaving him as detached and inhuman as Lucius. He stood up and faced away from her, leaning his head against the wall with a hand on either side. His knuckles were white, his whole body trembling. He looked so helpless, so vulnerable.Hermione walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips against the back of his neck. "Yes," she whispered into his ear. "I will love you even then. I will love you even if they burn that mark into your flesh, Draco, because that is all it would be: a mark. It can't change who you are inside." She felt his chest heave as he gave into bitter tears. Heavy sobs filled his chest, expressing all he could not bring himself to say or even admit. The sound stung Hermione's ears, sending currents of grief and pain through her veins- - her heart crying out for the boy in her arms. "I don't deserve you," she heard him whimper. Her eyes widened in fear- fear of losing him to his own misery, to his retched internal struggle. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she turned him around to face her. His eyes were as expressionless and hollow as if he had just received the Dementor's Kiss, empty grey voids gracing his otherwise breathtaking face. "Don't say that," she said in a voice both gentle yet firm in the same breath. He made no signs of having heard her, staring blankly at no particular point in space. "Draco, don't *say* that," Hermione repeated, pressing down on his shoulders to emphasize her point. She held up her left hand, showing him the ring she always wore: the one he had given her. "Do you see this ring?" she asked. "The man who gave me this ring deserves far better than I could ever give him." A sob escaped Draco's throat. Hermione continued, looking right through his eyes and into his soul. "I wear this ring because I love him, because every time I look into the eye of the dragon, I see him staring back at me. He gives me strength and courage and love. I could never ask for more than that." Almost subconsciously, Draco's arms found their way around her body and pulled her to him: her warmth melting, for the moment, the walls of ice surrounding his heart. The Hogwarts' Express began to slow its pace; images that had been flying past the window at a seeker's rate a moment ago now seemed to be suspended in the glass for a heartbeat before becoming merely a fleeting memory. They remained in view for ever-growing lengths of time until the train itself pulled to a stop, preserving one final frame in the window. The sudden stop caused Draco and Hermione to lose their balance, toppling over onto the floor and out of sight. King's Cross station was bubbling over with wizards and witches eagerly awaiting the first glimpses of their children. Hermione bustled about the compartment, gathering up her things while Draco took the opportunity to watch the goings on outside. He could see a kind-faced witch with flaming red hair peering into the open windows. Suddenly, she opened her arms wide and caught a small redheaded girl in her arms, then proceeded to make a fuss over her for a while until a taller, redheaded boy showed up. The Weasleys, Draco thought. Mrs. Weasley pulled Ron into a not-exactly-mutual hug. Draco felt a pang of jealousy toward Ron at that moment. And behind Ron stood the great-and-wonderful Harry Potter, evidently going to spend the holiday at the Burrow. Even though he knew neither boy particularly liked him (although they did, for some reason, accept his dating Hermione), Draco secretly wished he were going to the Burrow as well. His eyes darted around the crowd, picking out the other Slytherin parents, watching as the first and second years dropped all of their luggage to hug their parents, laughing a bit when one owl opened its own cage and took to flying about, causing its owner a good deal of stress. And in the center of it all, he saw a tall, pale man staring sternly out over the masses of people, arms folded across his chest. Draco's heart lurched. It was Lucius Malfoy. Draco had been praying that Lucius would not personally see him from King's Cross back to the mansion, but there he was, waiting with an impatient air, a sneer permanently seared into his pointed features. Hermione noticed Draco's silence and followed his line of gaze, her eyes resting upon what seemed to her an older version of Draco. The man was tall and pale, with the same pointed features, the same lean build.but there was something different about him, something.inhuman. They said their goodbyes on the train, neither one of them wanting to face the wrath of Lucius Malfoy if, by chance, he saw them together. Draco took Hermione's face in his hands, kissing her deeply before grabbing his trunk and bolting from the room, not even turning to look back: it would have been far too painful for him. Her face pressed up against the glass, Hermione watched him walk away from the train at a deliberately slow pace, dragging his trunk and caged owl behind him. Lucius Malfoy remained perfectly still, moving only when Draco stood directly before him, and then it was only to bark some sort of order at him. From a distance, the two figures could have been brothers, although Hermione noticed how submissive Draco seemed compared to Lucius. A large crowd passed in front of them, blocking Hermione's view. By the time the crowd had passed, Draco and his father were gone. Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, Hermione pulled her trunk out of the door and made her way toward the nearest exit. She would see him again in two weeks time; there really was no reason for her to feel so.so.but she had noticed something when he kissed her the last time that had caused an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not a trace of azure had hung in his steely-grey eyes.  
  
And?? REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!! Thx!! P.S: what I forgot to say, if there are many mistakes in the story, don't be angry, just tell me, I'm from Belgium, I can speak English, but it's not like you guys, you grew up with the language, so.. 


	3. a sealed fate

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of this story  
  
A Sealed Fate  
  
Lucius did not speak once during the ride back to the Malfoy mansion; he simply stared at Draco from behind his silvery-blond hair, his eyes narrowed as he tried to read the expressions flitting across Draco's face. Although Lucius usually didn't give Draco the time of day, it was his style to at least *attempt* to make conversation of some sort, but today was different. Draco supposed it was a form of intimidation, but also gladly welcomed the unexpected silence. It gave him time to think, time to remember why it was he decided to go on living. The carriage kept hitting bumps, causing Draco quite a bit of discomfort, but Lucius seemed unphased by it. Now and then, he would tilt his head ever so slightly to the side, and open his mouth as if to address his son, but no words would escape his frozen lips. His eyes were brimming with a concoction of hate and loathing, the only emotions he was capable of feeling. He was concealed in shadows cast by the sun's rays as they passed through a tall stand of trees: huge, majestic oaks that seemed to bow down as the carriage passed. Lucius Malfoy was the type of man who never needed to earn respect; it simply nipped at his heels wherever life took him. He was not respected out of grandeur or brilliance, not for his good deeds (of which there were none) nor his *generous* contributions (which weren't really quite so generous). No, he was respected out of pure fear: fear of the wrath of Lord Voldemort. The landscape outside of the carriage window began to take on familiar shapes as the carriage approached Malfoy mansion. Draco felt a wave of nausea overtake him; he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, trying to wipe away the unwelcome yet expected sensation. Straight ahead, Draco could see the wrought iron gates guarding the entrance to the property. Lucius had had them specially commissioned when he came into ownership of the Malfoy estate. The heavy, black bars stretched several meters into the air, twisting off to the right and left near the top in arcs -- their edges razor sharp, with thick spikes jutting out every few centimeters. In between the bars was a rather ornate latticework comprised entirely out of iron strips carefully woven together. The crowing touch was the golden letter "M" which was strategically positioned on the top of the gate so that it could be seen from quite a distance. The entire project had been a horrendously laborious task to undertake even with the use of magic, but was "Absolutely necessary," as Lucius liked to put it, "to keep out those rather unsavory neighbors.not to mention any *uninvited* guests." The gate was charmed; only pureblooded wizards (not witches, Lucius was sexist, to say the least) could pass through unharmed. Draco had never dared to touch the thing save one time when he was quite young. He and his mother had returned to the mansion only to find the gate sealed. "A test of your bravery, Draco, and of your mother's faithfulness." Lucius had later explained to him. Narcissa could do nothing but stand by and watch. Draco's hands had shaken violently as he reached out and pushed on the doors, watching them swing inward. He had not been harmed physically, but found the thought that Lucius would have let him die disturbing, to say the least. The carriage passed through the gates, its occupants still as silent as the moment they had entered. Has he always been so cold? Draco wondered as he watched Lucius out of the corner of his eye. The dark, foreboding mansion seemed to rise from its lush surroundings, looking as unnatural as its master. A complete contrast to Malfoy features, the rock comprising the house itself was a dark, mafic type, basaltic in composition. It was cut at unnatural angles, against the natural breakage of the rock, to prevent light from being reflected off of the surface. The windows were charmed; one could only see out of them. Standing four stories tall without the towers, upon first glance, one might be tempted to think that the house was abandoned (it looked far too unwelcoming for someone to actually live there), but then again, Lucius wasn't one for warmth or comfort. Passed from generation to generation of Malfoys, each new family made some sort of addition to the original structure, creating the rather twisted, asymmetrical masterpiece that Draco called home. Lucius' addition had been the fourth floor between the two towers, which rose ominously from the landscape. Only Death Eaters were welcome to trod upon the new level which, incidentally, was *not* charmed due to the simple fact that Lucius found it rather amusing to bring some of his muggle victims there so that he and his Death Eater friends could have a bit of *fun,* namely torture, with them. Draco had often been invited (forced) to attend these gala events, dressed in his best dress robes, wearing the Malfoy crest while others paraded around in their Death Eater getup, sans the hoods. Draco was praying that there would be no *parties* over this particular holiday season. The carriage drew to a halt in front of the massive front doors. Weighing several hundred pounds each, they were engraved with snakes coiling their serpentine bodies around a decorative "M." There was no doorbell, and no handles of any sort to open them with. Lifting the edges of his robes so as not to step on them, Draco carefully stepped down onto the drive, the gravel crunching underfoot as he made his way up toward the snake on the left. He placed his left palm over its eyes and spoke his own name allowed. A low hissing sound filled the air for a moment and then vanished just as quickly. A tiny sliver of light jutted out from between the massive slabs of wood as the doors swung inward, allowing Draco ample space to pass through the opening. For some reason, he could not bring himself to do it. He stood, his body frozen in place-- torrid waves of fear brandishing his mind. His toes stopped at the edge of the threshold, not daring to tread an inch farther. To walk through the doors would be like walking into a nightmare: one that cannot be escaped. It would seal his fate. Entering was easy; leaving was impossible. I could run, he thought, I could run away from all of this with Hermione.they'd never find us. "Well, boy, what are you waiting for?" Lucius snarled at him from behind in his usual hostile tone. He impatiently pushed Draco out of the way, brushing past him and into the mansion. Leaning his head against the doorframe, Draco could hear the fading *click* *click* of Lucius' boots upon the marble floors as he made his way across the entrance hall. Now was his chance-- "Narcissa!" Lucius bellowed, his voice echoing off of the cathedral ceiling as he continued to walk through the room at a rapid pace, "Your *son* is home." Draco froze. Even in his most desperate hour, he could not abandon her; he could not leave his mother here, not with that maniacal bastard. It seemed as though the decision had been made for him, and so it was with a heavy heart that he took the final step, and listened as the doors began to close behind him, each creak stealing from him his precious dreams of escape from all of this madness. A harsh gust of wind rushed over his back, whipping his robes about his legs, blowing stiffly against the nape of his neck. It was as though happiness was saying its last good-byes, leaving him with only bitter memories to sift through-- and then there was nothing. A lone leaf settled onto the floor next to Draco's feet. Eyes fixed upon it, only one word entered his mind: trapped. "Draco!" A woman's voice rang out happily, originating from the slight figure which was hurrying down the large marble staircase in front of him, her robes flowing behind her as she ran toward him. She dived into his arms, nearly knocking him into the wall. "Hello, mother," Draco said gently as he hugged her back. Narcissa looked into her son's face and smiled with pride, something Lucius never did. Draco was her only joy in life: her greatest accomplishment. She would have done anything in the world to keep him safe from harm, even stay with the likes of Lucius Malfoy. Sometimes Draco's startling resemblance to his father unnerved her, reminding her of the Lucius she had fallen in love with instead of the monster he had become. "You're growing up so fast," she beamed, pushing the hair back out of Draco's eyes with her left hand. She hated not having him around all of the time. Sighing, she began to recount what she affectionately called *Draco's Childhood Adventures.* "I can still remember when you were only a baby," Draco blushed, "and you took it upon yourself to grab my wand and crawl from your bedroom *all* the way to--" "Narcissa!" Lucius' voice seemed to significantly lower the temperature in the room, for both Draco and his mother shivered at the sound of it. "Send Draco to me at once!" Draco frowned at Lucius' treatment of such a well- respected witch. It had always been Lucius' custom to order Narcissa around as if she were hired help instead of his wife. Why she did nothing to better her situation was reduced to one simple truth: she was a prisoner in her own home. For her, there would be no escape: it was her life or her son's. Lucius had made this quite clear to her on their wedding night. "No one betrays a Malfoy, Narcissa," he had fiercely whispered into her ear only moments before he took her for the first time. "You are mine, you will always be mine; you will do what I tell you, *when* I tell you. Do you understand?" She had been too frightened to do anything except for nod. Lucius didn't even notice the tears sliding down her face as he ravaged her young body, making her his in every way possible. "You'd better go to him," she whispered, staring blankly at the floor. She felt so helpless, so terribly weak. Inside, she was still just the young girl whose naïve heart Lucius had captured so many years ago. What had she seen in him? Had his eyes really always been so cold? Were his thoughts always so malicious? Hadn't he been happy once? Had he ever loved her at all? Just thinking about these things made Narcissa's body ache with the love she still felt for the man she loathed above all others. "I'm going to lie down for a while." Her mind was tired, so very tired. Thinking itself took all of her energy. Perhaps if she had left sooner, if she had not loved Draco enough to stay-- "Mother," Draco asked, trying rather unsuccessfully to hide the worry in his tone. "Is something wrong?" So many things.Narcissa wanted to say.if only you knew. "Everything is fine, Draco," she said, adding a convincing smile that seemed to eradicate the worry from his silvery eyes. "I'm just tired." At least that was the truth, she consoled herself with the thought. With that, she ascended the staircase, leaving Draco to stare up after her, unspoken questions still on his tongue. They would have to remain unanswered as well. There was a mumbling sound that echoed down the empty hallway, originating from Lucius' private study. Glancing over his left shoulder, Draco could see a patch of light spilling out of the open door partway down the corridor. Hesitantly, he took a step in that direction, hoping that Lucius wanted no more than to discuss the latest Quidditch goings-on at Hogwarts. Cautiously, Draco neared the door, straining to hear whether or not Lucius was muttering to himself or engaged in an actual conversation. Wishing that he hadn't packed his wand, Draco slid silently over the marble floors, his robes gently billowing out behind as he moved like ebony sails. The scare light rays glinted off of his silvery hair, making him look like a ghostly apparition. "Yes, Master," Draco could make out the words. "Of course, I will see to the arrangements immediately." Lucius, being submissive? He could only be speaking to one person. Draco's thoughts were interrupted when a nearby painting announced his arrival. "Welcome back, young master Malfoy," the aged woman spoke in a low, breathy tone. Lucius evidently heard every word for he was at the door in four long strides. Grabbing Draco roughly by the neck, he forced him inside of the study and locked the door, placing a silencing spell on the room. He whirled around, his grey eyes teeming with disgust as he looked at the boy cowarding before him. "Afraid, are you boy?" he observed, contempt filling his voice. He began to move toward Draco in deliberate steps, never once breaking eye contact. Lucius' eyes were cesspools in which Draco watched his life spiral away. His face was now merely inches away, his breath hot on Draco's face despite the frigid voice. "Malfoys are *never* afraid." With both hands, Lucius shoved Draco backward against the wall. A sickening crack sounded as Draco's skull connected with the cold stone, sending pain surging through his mind. He sank to the floor. A thin crimson ribbon of blood trickled down the back of his neck. Lucius did not seem to notice. He turned on his heel and walked to the large wooden desk where he picked up what looked to be a small piece of paper, nearly crushing it in his fury. "I am going to ask you something, Draco," he said coolly, his back still turned, "and you will answer me truthfully, or you will severely regret your decision." He spun around. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, not waiting for any sort of response, and holding the paper up so that Draco could see it. Draco's vision was blurred from his head injury, but he could make out the image of two people standing side by side, waving at him: one dressed in blue, the other in black. There was a deep green in the background. Oh God, Draco thought in terror, it's a picture from the Yule Ball. He knows.Lucius noticed the look of horror on Draco's face and began to speak in a very controlled manner. "You have shamed me, Draco. You have shamed the Malfoy name. What the hell were you thinking, taking a mudblood," he practically spit out the word, "to the Yule Ball?" Draco made no response, using the arm of his robe to mop up the blood pooling around him. Lucius wanted a fight; Draco wasn't going to allow him the pleasure. Lucius' fingers curled around the edge of the photograph. "I received this picture from a very concerned friend of yours who was kind enough to apprise me of the situation." Probably Crabbe or Goyle, Draco thought miserably, cradling his throbbing head in his arms. So much for being "friends". "Did you honestly think that I wouldn't find out? Did you think you could just hide the little whore from me forever?" Draco's head shot up, his eyes blazing in anger. "Don't you *ever* call Hermione that!" He spoke fiercely, the corners of his eyes beginning to sting. "You know absolutely nothing about her!" Lucius kept a straight face, his frozen eyes boring a hole into Draco's mind. Lucius' eyes were a mirror of his heart; both were so cold that God himself could not have melted them. "I will not tolerate being spoken to in such a disrespectful manner, Draco. No son of mine will have anything to do with the Muggle world, do you understand me?" Lucius' voice did not waver as he spoke, remaining almost perfectly calm. Draco found it infuriating. "You *will* break it off, do you hear me? I'm appalled that this has continued for as long as it has." Lucius' contorted his face as if he were made physically ill by the thought. "No," Draco protested. "I will not break it off." To his surprise, Lucius did not become enraged. Instead, he did quite the opposite: he smiled. "So be it," he whispered. Raising the picture in both hands, he slowly tore it in half and let the pieces float to the floor. "Get up," he ordered, the smile making him look maniacal. Draco did not move. "Get up!" he repeated, a bit louder. Draco met Lucius' eyes and shook his head. Lucius grabbed Draco's collar and pulled him to his feet. "You will not defy me boy!" he snarled into Draco's face, gripping his collar as he spoke. "You will stop seeing that whore of a mudblood. You will receive the Dark Mark in two days time when Lord Voldemort arrives, and serve him faithfully as I have done." Draco's head felt as though it would explode any moment. "T-- two days?" he stammered. Lucius eyed Draco suspiciously. "I expected your reaction to be a bit more positive," he said skeptically, "As will our master, for that matter." His brows were twisted into a scowl.  
  
"Our master?" Draco repeated with disdain. "Yes, Draco, our master. Unless your loyalties have changed, that is." Draco refused to meet Lucius' gaze, fixing his eyes upon the two halves of the Yule Ball photograph several feet away. Lucius took a step backward, his mouth opened in shock. He pointed his finger at Draco accusingly but said nothing, simply staring at him in disbelief. "No," he spoke finally, "No! You are a Malfoy, Draco! You will not bring further shame upon this house! You're my *son*, Draco. Certain things are expected of you!" "I'm not like you, father," Draco spoke hesitantly, watching cautiously as Lucius hand formed a tight fist. "I've never been like you." He closed his eyes as the impact came: Lucius' fist connecting firmly with his jaw, flooding his mouth with the coppery tang of blood and sending him flying backward into the edge of the desk. His back connected with a dull thud, and Draco collapsed onto the floor. Lucius stood over him, his fist bleeding slightly from the impact with Draco's teeth. "Are you going to defy me further?" he sneered. Draco groaned, holding his hand protectively over his jaw. "I asked you a question." Draco had no chance to answer for the next thing he felt was Lucius' foot slamming into his ribs. He cried out in pain, clutching his chest. Scrambling forward, he stretched out his fingers to grab hold of the desk, trying to pull himself to his feet. Lucius' footsteps sounded behind him, each louder than the one before, each striking a note of terror into Draco's heart. His fingers curled around a solid object; he hurled it toward Lucius, who managed to sidestep it. Aiming his wand at Draco, he muttered something under his breath. "Crucio." Suddenly, Draco's body was racked with white hot pain that sliced through his flesh like knives of fire. Writhing in agony, only one thought could penetrate the blinding pain in his mind: Hermione. He pictured her face, her smile; he felt her touch, tasted her kiss. Her words echoed in his mind, "I will love you even if they burn that mark into your flesh, Draco, because that is all it would be: a mark. It can't change who you are inside." Should he submit? Should he *let* them mark him for life? At least, that way, he would still be alive; he would still have a chance to be with her. But if he lay here, if he died at Lucius' hand, he would never see her again, never hold her again. He would never get to tell her he loved her again. She had turned his life around, showing him the kind of person he was capable of being. Why had he ever treated her as less than human? He would do it for her; he would give himself up for her. "Crucio." Not a trace of regret was evident in Lucius' voice. A new surge of pain twisted in his aching veins, inundating his senses completely. He knew only raw emotions: fear and pain. "Stop!" The plea tore itself from Draco's lips. He lay sprawled on the ground, his face pressed against the cold floor. The retreating waves of agony still racked his body as his lips attempted to form the words his heart begged him not to say. "Tell our master I anxiously await his arrival." He closed his eyes, sickened by his own weakness. "Well," Lucius spoke in a flat tone, "Your sudden catharsis will please Lord Voldemort, I'm sure." He cleared his throat and continued. "But to ensure that you are not merely trying to save your own throat, a few security measurements will be taken for your.protection." "Such as?" Draco asked in a hoarse voice. His eyes were still burning, his head throbbing in pain. The metallic taste of blood still hung on his lips.  
  
"You will remain locked in your room until Lord Voldemort arrives. No visitors, no owls: no exceptions." Draco sighed in defeat, nodding reluctantly. "If you so much as put one toe out of line, I will track down that mudblood of yours so that she may.*attend* your initiation ceremony. I'm sure she'd love to join in the festivities." Lucius had the nerve to smile at Draco at this moment, sending him flying toward him, fists flying, a continuous stream of curses originating from his bloody lips. "You fucking bastard! Don't you touch her! I swear to God, I'll kill you myself!" Lucius was taken aback by this; he was used to having the upper hand with Draco on all occasions. He had never fully taken into account that Draco and he were nearly the same height and build until the boy had knocked him into the wall and was thrashing furiously at him. "I'll rip you apart if you *ever* come near her! I love her; do you hear me? I love her!" Lucius had dropped his wand in the commotion; it lay a few inches away from his outstretched fingers. Draco was still cursing him, though he had stopped flailing his arms about and was now standing up, wiping the trickle of blood from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He turned his back for a split second, giving Lucius time to act. Lucius leaned forward three inches, his skeleton-like fingers encompassing the wand. Within seconds he had Draco in a full body bind, hovering a few feet off of the ground. He peered into the boy's frightened visage and shook his head in utter loathing. "I warned you," he said in an icy tone laced with sick, twisted humor. He bent down and picked up the two halves of the photograph. He shredded Draco's face further, tossing the tiny bits into the fireplace, but he held up the picture of Hermione and looked from it to Draco. "Just know that you've sealed your own fate.and hers. She'll make a wonderful party favor." His tongue darted out of his mouth and licked the length Hermione's face, distorting the image. It amused him to see the anger boiling over in Draco's eyes. Raising his wand, he muttered something unrecognizable. Darkness invaded Draco's mind, and he surrendered to it willingly. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW THX!!! 


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